I shrugged. I didn’t have the answers. She was the adult. I was hoping she would. ‘What about Uncle Julian?’ I asked in a small voice.
Mum’s laughter carried no humour. ‘Uncle Julian? In Brisbane? He lives in a one bedroom unit, Ebony. Where would we all fit?’
Again, I shrugged. I hadn’t thought that far.
‘Exactly. Not to mention the airfare to Brisbane for four of us would be more than I could afford right now.’ She shook her head as if to clear the thoughts from it. ‘Now, no more of that nonsense talk, all right?’
I nodded reluctantly.
‘And be careful what you say in front of the girls. I don’t want you upsetting them.’ She shoved a geranium into a pot and poked dirt around it. ‘It could be worse.’ She attacked another unsuspecting plant. ‘No one’s perfect, you know. Your father works hard to keep a roof over our heads and put food on the table.’
‘What about all the money he wastes on horse racing?’
‘He wins sometimes,’ Mum said.
‘Not nearly as much as he loses.’
‘That’s enough. Now, I said I’ll see what I can do about your running. In the meantime, be a good girl, help out around the house and show your father you’re trying. The more you stay on his good side the better things will be. For all of us.’
That night Dad had a few drinks, but for some reason he didn’t get agro like he usually did. Instead, he was actually in a good mood. After dinner, we watched TV, pretending to be a normal family. I was on the lounge. Mum was in the armchair knitting baby booties while Dad lay on the floor with May and Rose. Every now and then, he’d tickle them or blow raspberries on their bellies. They’d fall about giggling and lapping up Dad’s attention.
The tiger had become a pussycat.
For now.
Sensing Dad’s good mood, I kept eyeing Mum and chewing my fingernails, pleading silently with her to say something, anything. Finally, Mum spoke. ‘Eb, why don’t you tell your dad what happened at school today?’
I glanced uncertainly at Mum.
‘Go on. Tell him.’
I turned to Dad. I couldn’t read what he was thinking. His face was a mask.
‘I came first in the eight hundred metres and second in the one hundred,’ I said. ‘Oh, and I got second in the long jump, too.’
Dad grunted, his eyes wandering back to the TV.
‘Doug, did you hear?’ Mum said. ‘Eb did really well. We’ve got a regular little athlete on our hands.’
‘Yeah, I heard. That’s great, Ebony.’
‘And it means?’ Mum prompted.
I thought she was going to do the hard work for me on this? Maybe not.
‘It means I can go to the zone carnival,’ I said.
‘Oh, yeah? Good for you.’
‘So do you mind if I go, Dad? It’ll be in school time.’
Dad shrugged. ‘As long as I’m not going to be out of pocket. You kids cost me enough as it is.’
I sighed inwardly. Money was always tight around here. Except when it came to beer or horse racing.
‘It won’t cost a cent.’ I felt like I’d had this conversation before. ‘When it comes time for the carnival, they’ll drive us into Oxford on a bus.’
Dad grunted again, his eyes still attached to the TV.
‘There is one thing, though.’ I glanced at Mum. She nodded for me to continue. ‘Mr Gordon is running training sessions Fridays after school. I’d like to go to them.’
‘You’re to help your mother in the afternoons.’ Dad’s voice was flat, distant. He didn’t look at me when he spoke.
‘It’s only one afternoon a week, Doug,’ Mum said. ‘I’ll manage without her.’
I held my breath, waiting for Dad to explode like he had the other time. Instead, he tugged Rose’s big toe, which was poking out of a hole in her sock. Rose squealed with delight as she flopped on top of Dad.
‘If you think you can manage,’ he said. ‘As long as I don’t have to do anything.’
Mum threw me a wink over Dad’s head. I couldn’t believe it. Only a few days ago Dad had said no to me training after school. Now he didn’t care. Somehow, I don’t think he even remembered our conversation from the other night. He must have had more to drink than I’d realised.
‘Thanks, Dad.’ I was so happy I almost hugged him, but I held back. Hugging Dad wasn’t something I usually did.
‘Don’t thank me. Thank your mother. Now, how about you fetch me some ice cream? There’s a good girl.’
‘Me, too,’ said May.
‘Me, three,’ said Rose.
Elated, I hurried into the kitchen. ‘Coming right up.’
‘Can you come over Sunday afternoon?’ Teena asked as we pedalled our bikes home after training. ‘I’m dying to show you my dragons.’
All week I’d side-stepped Teena with one excuse after another, but the girl was determined. By Friday, I was ready to cave in. ‘Sure,’ I said.
You’d have thought she’d won Lotto the way she whooped like a crazed monkey and did a wheel stand. ‘Terrific. See you then.’
I watched her go, gnawing at my lip. I knew Dad had plans for me this weekend. If I worked hard, maybe he’d let me have Sunday afternoon off. All I had to do was find the right time to ask.
Friday night Dad got stuck into the drink, so I stayed out of his way and went to bed early.
‘Ebony!’ Dad called the next morning. ‘Get up and make breakfast.’
Half asleep, I made toast and a pot of tea and carried it into my parents’ bedroom.
‘Thanks, love.’ Mum sat up when she heard the teacups rattling on the tray.
I flung the curtains open. A Mills and Boon novel sat on the bedside table. Dark rings lapped Mum’s eyes. I wondered if she’d stayed up late reading. She looked like she could do with more sleep.
‘Anything else you want me to do?’
‘You can milk Honey.’ Dad shovelled the buttery toast into his mouth.
I made the girls’ breakfast then, still munching my toast, I walked up the back, swinging the milk bucket as I went. The air was fresh, the sky clear. I tossed Springer the last corner of my toast as I trotted past his kennel. A trio of kookaburras greeted me with their noisy laughter and the chooks cackled, begging for food. The familiar smell of mouldy hay and rat droppings curled up my nose as I stepped into the shed.
I milked Honey then carried the bucket back to the house, not daring to give Springer any because Dad was home. ‘Sorry, mate.’ I left him whimpering after me.
‘Take the wheelbarrow up the paddock and collect the manure.’ Dad took the milk. ‘Shovel’s in the shed. I’ll help you once I’ve fed the animals.’
Besides Honey, we owned four steers, which we’d raised from poddy calves and which would eventually be slaughtered for their meat. We also owned two horses, so there was always plenty of fertiliser for the gardens.
Organic farming, Dad called it.
After four loads, the trough near the garden was almost full. I watered the manure down, then mixed it with the shovel, making it soft and wet for spreading on the garden. The marshy stench of manure hung everywhere, making me sneeze.
Dad and I worked all day, weeding and fertilising and pausing only for lunch. About three o’clock, Dad stopped and looked about the garden. ‘You did all right today, Eb.’
I shrugged. ‘It wasn’t so bad.’
‘That’s right. A bit of hard work never hurt anyone. I’ll pack the tools away. You go help your mother.’
‘Dad.’ My throat instantly dried. I swallowed and tried again. ‘Dad, I was wondering if I could go visit a friend.’
‘What friend?’
‘Teena. I’d only be an hour or so.’
‘When?
‘Tomorrow afternoon.’
‘No.’
‘I already promised I’d go see her.’
‘Well, you shouldn’t have. I thought we’d go for a drive tomorrow morning. Have some time as a family.’
I
was sure he was lying, just making things up so he had an excuse for me not to go. Dad never wanted to hang out with us.
‘Won’t we be back by the afternoon?’
‘No. And I don’t want you running all over town, either. Kids get into trouble that way.’
‘I just thought – ’
The tiger’s stripes rippled beneath the surface. ‘No, Ebony, you didn’t think.’ He glared at me. ‘You never do.’ He snatched the rake and stalked off.
‘What happened?’ Mum asked when I trudged inside.
‘Nothing. Just Dad being Dad.’
That night, after Mum and Dad went to bed I snuck out to the kitchen to call Teena. I picked up the phone then, hearing a noise behind me, spun around. It was Dad, his eyes blazing.
‘What are you doing?’
I hung up and shot Dad a guilty look. ‘Calling Teena.’
Dad grabbed my arm and yanked me towards him. I gasped in pain, flinching away from his bloodshot eyes and sandpaper stubble.
‘What have I told you about using the phone?’ His alcohol-stained breath swarmed over me. My stomach clenched.
The tiger was prowling. Nearer.
For some reason, I thought my words would reach him. I should have known they wouldn’t. They never did when he’d been drinking.
‘I know this isn’t an emergency,’ I blabbered. ‘But I have to call Teena to cancel tomorrow.’
‘You didn’t ask if you could use the phone.’ He spat the words at me.
My eyes narrowed. Why did he have to control everything I did? Why couldn’t he just leave me alone?
Mum tiptoed into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Go back to bed.’
‘Please, Dad, can I just call Teena and tell her I can’t come over tomorrow?’
‘I said no.’
‘What will it hurt?’
The leather belt came down from the back door. My eyes widened and my knees buckled with fear. Something inside me shifted. I wanted to run and keep running and never stop. But my legs stayed where they were. They were made of stone, of concrete. My legs were useless.
‘Where do you get off talking to me like that?’ The tiger’s eyes flared with anger as the power surged through him.
‘I’m sorry.
‘Doug, don’t.’
‘Stay out of it, Trish.’
Woken by the noise, May and Rose ran out to cling to Mum’s legs, their eyes round like a startled possum’s. May held ‘Manket’, her security blanket, to her chest and sobbed, ‘Don’t hurt Ebby.’
The tiger was hunting. ‘Get back to bed,’ was all he said.
Then, it began.
I retreated into my secret place, but I couldn’t go far enough.
He found me and hurt me. Just like he always did.
When the tiger’s energy was spent, the floor rose up and slapped my face, my chest. I lay there sobbing, unable to move.
The tiger vanished. Dad became Dad again. The strap dangled from his hand. ‘Useless little cow.’
Loathing coiled inside me. ‘I hate you,’ I wailed pathetically as tears and snot dribbled down my face. ‘If you ever hit me again I’ll run away, I swear, I’ll run away and never come back.’
Dad laughed. ‘Pack your bags and go. The less females to feed around here, the better.’
I had nothing left, so I covered my face and sobbed the pain out of me. A door slammed then gentle hands touched me.
‘Why do you do it to yourself ?’ Mum said. ‘Why do you always work him up?’
I shook my head and sobbed harder. I didn’t remember asking to be hit, but maybe Mum was right. Maybe it was my fault and I deserved everything I got.
The next day Dad didn’t take us out. I knew he wouldn’t. He’d only been kidding himself, not me.
Instead, he sat on the veranda drinking. ‘You should have seen my father,’ he’d rant at anyone within earshot. ‘Fists on him like a Christmas ham and boy did he use them. Black eyes were his specialty.’
I lay in my room, my hands over my ears. I’d heard it all a million times before. Dad’s stories always chilled me. I hated to hear the horrors that he’d been through. Why didn’t he realise he was doing the same thing to me that his dad did to him?
While Dad basked in his remembered pain, I tried to forget mine. My back was covered in welts, the skin tender. I hid in my room all day, surfacing only to use the toilet or get a glass of water. I didn’t feel like eating.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Teena. I desperately wanted to call her, but I couldn’t with Dad around. Why did he have to control everything I did?
In the evening, Mum came and asked if I wanted to stay home from school the next day.
‘I’m going,’ I said. School and running were my only escape. That’s why I loved them so much.
‘Show me your back.’
‘It’s fine, Mum. Leave it.’
‘Show me.’
‘What do you care?’ I spat the angry words at her.
‘Of course I care. Now show me your back, for heaven’s sake.’
Silently scowling, I turned and lifted my shirt.
‘Oh, Ebby!’ I felt her light touch and drew away. ‘It looks sore.’ ‘That’s because it is.’
‘It won’t hurt to miss a few days of school, you know.’
‘I’m not staying near him any more than I have to,’ I said. ‘I’ll be fine.’
When she got up to leave I saw tears in her eyes. It didn’t make me any less angry. If this was such a problem for her, why didn’t she get me out of here? Why wouldn’t she just pack us all up and leave? I loved my mum. But I couldn’t rely on her to protect me. Part of me hated her for it.
The next morning I felt better although my back was still sore.
‘Ebby eat this.’ May handed me a slice of toast.
The butter was chunky and the toast torn, but it was nice having breakfast made for me for a change. May watched while I ate. I wondered what was going on behind those dark eyes of hers, but I didn’t have the energy to ask.
When Mum handed me my lunchbox, I almost cried. She’d slipped a slice of homemade orange cake in instead of the usual SAOs. Everyone was being gentle with me. Even Rose wasn’t her usual rambunctious self and gave me three clingy, wet kisses goodbye.
‘Dad’s working late at the abattoirs tomorrow,’ Mum said. ‘He’s covering a shift for one of the other blokes on holiday. Why don’t you ask Teena if you can visit her then?’
‘I’ll see.’
Part of me was still angry with Mum for letting this happen. For not stopping Dad. Why couldn’t she have stood up to him and told him not to hit me?
Because she’s scared of him, too. The thought nagged at the back of my mind. I wasn’t sure if it was true, but what if it was?
On the way to school, I spotted Teena riding up ahead. I could have caught up to her. I didn’t. I stayed well back, making sure she didn’t see me. When I arrived at school, I hid in the toilets until the bell rang.
At assembly, I dodged Teena again. I couldn’t avoid her in class, though, because we sat beside each other. As I dragged myself into the demountable, I noticed Chloe and Miranda weren’t in their seats. I was too busy feeling miserable to think much of it.
Teena was already at our desk. My stomach lurched. If she hated me, I wouldn’t blame her. I was the worse friend ever. I’d left her hanging by not going to see her and I hadn’t even called to explain why.
‘Hi,’ Teena said.
‘Hi,’ I squeaked.
‘Good morning, class. Open your books to page seven,’ Mr Gospel said. ‘Angus, read please.’
Angus started reading in a jerky monotone. ‘That was the most incred, incred, incred-ib-ub-le ... ’
Under cover of the class’s laughter, Teena leaned towards me. ‘Did you forget our date?’
Head bent, I pretended to be absorbed in the book. ‘I was busy.’
‘What with?’
‘Stuff.�
��
‘Quiet up the back.’ Mr Gospel eyed us sternly.
‘What sort of stuff ?’
I shrugged. ‘Stuff. Life’s not all about hanging out, you know.’
Teena looked confused. I reminded myself that this was the only way. Like Dad says, you have to be cruel to be kind. There was no point us being friends if I couldn’t be a proper one. Teena was better off finding someone else and I told her so.
Her face dropped. She looked confused at first, then sad. I thought she might even be about to cry when she said, ‘But I don’t want another friend.’
I pinched my arm, reminding myself to be cruel. ‘Too bad.’
‘But who’ll share their SAOs with me?’ Her voice was jokey and uncertain.
I shrugged. ‘Beats me.’
‘Have you morphed into Chloe or Miranda or something?’ She was suddenly angry. ‘Is that why they’re away? You’ve taken their place?’
Mr Gospel gave us another searing look, forcing us into silence. When the bell rang for recess, I zipped out of the classroom ahead of everyone else.
‘Ebony, wait,’ Teena called after me.
‘Got to go to the loo.’ I raced into the girls’ toilets and locked myself in a cubicle. I didn’t come out until the bell rang at the end of recess.
‘Are you all right?’ Teena asked when I sat beside her in class again.
‘Quit hassling me, would you?’
‘I will if you tell me what I did wrong.’
‘You didn’t do anything. I just don’t want to be your friend anymore.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ Teena said.
‘You’re going to have to.’
At lunchtime, Teena sat with Sophie and Emma. I couldn’t help feeling jealous, but I was glad she’d got the message. After the last bell, though, Teena cornered me at the bike rack. ‘I had something to give you yesterday.’
I threw my bag into my bike basket. ‘I don’t want it.’ I tugged my bike out of the rack and wheeled it around.
‘I’m giving it to you anyway.’
Teena held her hand out. Amongst a nest of tissue paper sat a green porcelain dragon, about ten centimetres high with glittering eyes and shiny scales.
Running from the Tiger Page 4
